


Cruel Kindness

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-15
Updated: 2000-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:23:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krycek tastes the grass on the other side and then goes back to the smoker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel Kindness

Krycek leaned back in seat and allowed the smoker to pay for the cab-fare. The old man got out, and Krycek slid easily to the other side of the cab and joined him. Before the cab could pull away, the smoker adjusted Krycek's bow-tie and fussed with his lapels. The driver looked disgusted at them through the window and almost cut a bus off to pull back into traffic.

Krycek pulled away, but the smoker grabbed on to the back of his neck and Krycek froze. "You will do this," the smoker said, mildly.

He had just gotten his hair cut, and the man's hand against his denuded skin made him angry. The smoker must have noticed because he began stroking down the line of his neck. "Be very nice, Krycek," he whispered. "I don't want you to blow this."

Krycek glanced at the man sideways. "I thought you did," he said, flatly.

"Room 826. Good luck."

Krycek pulled away from the smoker and let the doorman open the door for him without meeting his eye. It was a different feeling, but then he had never worn a tuxedo before. No one questioned him as he went to the elevators and told the lift operator what floor to go to.

He knocked on 826. The door opened, and an old man answered the door, half dressed with his bow-tie over his shoulders and his shirt untucked. His eyes narrowed as he looked Krycek up and down, and Krycek forced himself to remain impassive. The man lifted Krycek's chin to the right and left, and then ran a hand down his chest. Krycek froze again, not quite sure of what he would do if the man touched his cock, but the man pulled away and went back inside the room. "You'll do," he said.

Krycek followed him in, hating the uncertainty. "The smoker says you're even. No more favours."

The man looked at him as he did up the bow-tie. "So, who are you that the smoker calls you for his paybacks?"

Krycek sat down on the bed. "No one."

"Stand up. You'll ruin the press of your pants."

Krycek obeyed, and the man turned away to continue dressing. Once he finished, he opened the small fridge and took out a bottle of champagne and then grabbed two glasses. "Hold these," he said.

Krycek took them, and drained his once the man took his own back. The champagne tickled his nose as he drank, but the alcohol hit his empty stomach and the slight buzz from it made the man's hand on his shoulder bearable. "You are a cute one. Where did he find you?" the man asked.

Krycek looked at him blankly. "He recruited me out of the FBI," he said.

The man removed his hand.

#

The night passed slowly. Krycek let the man lead him through the cocktail party by his elbow, and Krycek had to hide his wince every time the grip became too painful. He found out the man's name was Wilbur, but he stayed silent through most of it.

"Bring me a drink," Wilbur ordered.

Krycek left his side and went to the bar. The bartender tried to hit on him, but Krycek used his blank face again and the man gave up. He was tired from the surveillance work the smoker had him on the night before and the flight to New York had taken more out of him than it used to.

Wilbur took the drink and put his hand back on his elbow. Krycek left it there, and ignored the looks from Wilbur's business associates.

A man younger than Wilbur but still gray-haired approached them. Wilbur leaned in to an obvious private conversation and Krycek ignored them as he studied the reception hall. There were two obvious exits and a fire door rigged with an alarm. It was Wilbur's thirtieth anniversary for his bank, and the crowd was mostly harmless bankers. There were a few people that lurked to the edge of the room and looked like private security, and Krycek looked away before they noticed him noticing them. The party was winding down. Most of the food on the tables had been picked over thoroughly, and the remainder had lost its appeal.

"So, tell me, Wilbur, do you share?" Krycek heard. His attention snapped back to the conversation in front of him.

Wilbur slid his hand possessively to Krycek's back, and Krycek stood still for it. There were hundreds of bones he could have broken in the man's hand, wrist and forearm, but instead he let it move under his jacket tails. "Not this one. This one is all mine."

Krycek looked at the man in front of him, and let his eyes narrow for a second. The man flushed, and backed away from them. When Wilbur turned to him, Krycek met his gaze innocently. "Are we done?" Krycek asked.

Wilbur looked around, probably noticing the dying party around him for the first time. He glanced to his watch and then smiled. "I suppose we are."

Krycek returned with him to the suit. Wilbur unlocked the door, put his key card on the desk, and then turned to where Krycek stood by the door. He started to undo his belt, and then motioned Krycek forward, obviously no longer caring about the press of Krycek's suit.

#

Krycek got up and rinsed his mouth out with champagne. The man had retired to his bed and was dead asleep by the time Krycek had left the bathroom. The sky would be light in another couple hours, so Krycek grabbed his jacket and left.

#

Mulder had been surprised to see the smoker in New York. He followed the man for almost three hours, knowing where he was, Krycek usually followed, but the man had supper alone and then returned to his hotel room. Mulder bribed the bellboy; someone matching Krycek's description had left with the smoker, but he had definitely returned alone.

He returned to his hotel room. The woman's body in Central Park had looked like an X-File before Scully had run the tox screen and found the needle mark between her toes. It was definitely a murder, but the mysterious causes evaporated. Scully had caught the red-eye back to D.C., but Mulder wanted to hang around a couple days.

He woke up the next morning to the sun already warm. He grabbed a coffee at a nearby convenient store, and then caught a cab to the docks. It was a long drive, but he justified it to himself as being on expense account. He'd settle it with Skinner later.

He had the cabby drop him off just past 14th Street. The sun was now hot, and he dumped the remains of his coffee in a garbage can. It wasn't exactly a bad neighbourhood, but he was glad it was during the day. His suit and tie would hold him up as an easy target to the nighttime residents.

Krycek sat alone on the edge of the pier. A broken, decaying warehouse cast its shadow over most of the wharf, but Krycek sat in the sun and ignored the sights and sounds around him. Mulder almost cleared his throat as he approached so it wouldn't startle him, but Krycek turned around just as Mulder's shadow touched his back.

"What are you doing here, Mulder?" Krycek asked in his gravelly voice.

Mulder didn't answer him, and Krycek pulled himself to his feet. His eyes were dark, and with his jacket over one of the posts, he almost looked like a waiter on a bender in the remains of his crumpled tuxedo. "What happened?" Mulder asked instead.

Krycek looked down at himself as Mulder took a step closer. He could smell the man, for once not smelling of leather and gun-oil. Even in the rumpled clothes, Krycek smelled clean, and he had obviously shaved early in the evening the day before. Mulder felt the heat radiate from Krycek's shoulders, and he almost leaned forward to touch Krycek, but he pulled back and waited to be asked.

Krycek kept his dark eyes cold for a heartbeat, but then closed his eyes and slumped his shoulders. Mulder put his hand on the man's shoulder and ran his palm against the hot cloth. Krycek tensed under him, and Mulder worked his fingers between the knots. "What happened?" he asked, again.

"What always happens," Krycek said, voice dropped low. "And I did nothing to stop it, Mulder. I never do anything to stop it."

Mulder moved in to kiss the back of Krycek's neck, and Krycek leaned back into him, his entire body shaking. There was no one around, unless someone was looking at them through binoculars from New Jersey, and his hands started to fumble as he undid the small pearl buttons on Krycek's shirt. Krycek leaned into him, not helping but definitely not hindering him in any way. Mulder pressed himself against Krycek him, but after Krycek remained unresponsive for more than a heartbeat, Mulder backed away.

"What are you--" Krycek started.

Mulder pressed a finger against his lips. "You don't want this," he said. He took Krycek's hand and started to lead him off the docks.

Krycek seemed reluctant to step into the shadow of the building. He planted his heels, and Mulder was surprised again by how strong he actually was. "I do, I do want this," he protested.

"But not here, and not like this. Come on, Krycek. For me," Mulder said. Krycek allowed himself to be dragged into the shadow, and he hugged his jacket as they appeared on the other side of the pier. A cab waited at the taxi-stand, and Mulder opened the door. "Get in."

Krycek ducked his head and slid in. "Why are you doing this, Mulder?" he asked, but kept his voice flat.

"You look like you need breakfast."

"You're going to solve all my problems by feeding me?" Krycek demanded.

"It's a start."

"Mulder…" Krycek began, but then closed his mouth. "You really are a crazy fuck, did you know that?" he asked, sitting back.

"I know," Mulder said.

Mulder took him to a restaurant near his hotel room. Krycek ordered coffee and Mulder ordered them both the ham and egg special. "Are you going to spoon-feed it to me, too?" Krycek asked.

"If I have to."

"Why do this?" Krycek asked. His nose wrinkled slightly, making him look almost innocent for a heartbeat. "Why change the rules?"

"Rules? I wasn't aware that we had any rules."

"Oh, don't give me that," Krycek snapped, but then silenced as the waitress brought them coffee. "You and me, we got this down in the docks, in your crappy apartment, in the backseat of your car thing. The thing does not include going for coffee or mother-henning the other."

"So I'm allowed to fuck you but God help me if I care about you."

"Basically," Krycek said. He closed his eyes and inhaled the steam from the coffee. Mulder watched, not wanting to interrupt Krycek's simple pleasures. From the gaunt look to his cheeks, it didn't look like he had many of them. "Do you have a problem with that?" Krycek eventually asked. He opened his eyes and put down his cup.

"And what if I did?"

"I'd walk out of here."

"No, you wouldn't."

"And why wouldn't I?"

  
"Because if you tried you'd find yourself handcuffed to the central pole holding up the table."

"You wouldn't," Krycek said as he narrowed his eyes again.

"And why wouldn't I?"  


"Because the pole is far too thick to get the other cuff around it."

They both moved their feet to check, and bumped into each other. Krycek jumped a little as Mulder used it as an excuse to move his foot up the back of Krycek's calf, and then settled down to the caress. The waitress came again, but they were both in shocked silence so they didn't have to consciously stop talking. The girl looked at them both oddly as she put the plates down, but Krycek didn't look like he noticed and Mulder pretended he didn't.

Despite his protestations, Krycek devoured his meal without sparing the time to talk. Mulder played with his food, more interested in watching. Krycek noticed just as he pushed the last of the hash-browns onto his fork with his thumb. "What?" he asked.

"You have ketchup on the tip of your nose."

Krycek actually blushed and wiped it off. He leaned back against the booth and sipped at his coffee. "So, now do we fuck?" he asked.

"No. We get you out of that tuxedo."

Krycek didn't have to complain about the way the new denim must have felt, but his face went tight again and when he thought Mulder wasn't looking, he shifted his weight oddly. He had left his tuxedo at the clothing shop, which seemed odd because it looked like it had been tailor fitted. Mulder didn't ask.

Instead they went for a walk in the park. Krycek muttered darkly for the first half an hour, but it was hard to mutter darkly when the sky was blue and the trees still hadn't lost their green from the lack of water. Eventually the muttering stopped, and Mulder almost caught him smiling a couple times. "It's been a long time since I've done this," he finally confessed.

"I know. If your skin was any whiter, I'd stake you."

Krycek didn't miss a beat. He grabbed Mulder, worked around the man's arms before Mulder could instinctively push him away and bit him hard on the neck. Mulder froze out of shock, and then Krycek backed away and made incredibly exaggerated gagging sounds.

"Very funny," Mulder said, but it made him smile. They watched a mounted patrol walk past, and then sat down in the shade.

"Please tell me that now we fuck," Krycek said, and it seemed odd that he was so willing to allow Mulder to control the day as much as he had, but Mulder realized that this was a different side to Krycek that he probably didn't show. Mulder stood up and Krycek followed behind him.

Another cab ride, and this time Krycek was perfectly content to allow Mulder to pay for it. Mulder began to suspect that his sleep deprivation didn't begin with the night before, but when Mulder unlocked his door, Krycek looked wide-awake. Mulder pushed the door open, and Krycek hesitated for a moment before entering the room first. It was a basic hotel, bed, desk, telephone, but the bed hadn't been made up yet. As Krycek moved to it as Mulder put a do not disturb sign on the door and deadbolted it.

Krycek parted his lips as Mulder approached him, but Mulder dropped to his knees rather than kiss him. Krycek almost bolted back, but Mulder put his hands over Krycek's knees and the touch seemed to soothe him. They remained like that for a heartbeat, and then Krycek leaned back and his stomach muscles began to unclench through the T-shirt he wore.

Mulder put his hand over Krycek's belly to feel it. Krycek made a sound, it wasn't a groan or moan but it was more than just a sigh, and he lifted his hips helpfully off the bed as Mulder lowered his jeans down.

Krycek's cock rested against his thigh, but it was waking up. Mulder picked it up carefully, and he looked up at Krycek and made eye contact as he slowly parted his lips and took Krycek down his throat. Krycek was making that sound again, and Mulder recognized the emotion making it. Vulnerability. He had never imagined Krycek to open himself that much. They had fucked a dozen times, but Krycek was right, it had been rough and quick up against something and Krycek was usually doing up his jeans and disappearing as Mulder still struggled to breathe.

He caught himself deliberately slowing down. He didn't want to torture Krycek, but found the pleasure/pain on Krycek' face beautiful. A part of him wanted to keep it slow just to see if Krycek would ever ask for anything, but that would be sadistic. He pulled away, and Krycek opened his eyes as he felt the mouth leaving him. He started to say something, but thrust his hips instead, silently begging.

Mulder started to move his hand over Krycek, and waited for him to relax against the bedside again before he reached for his overnight bag. The KY jelly, not very romantic but easy enough to explain to nosy airport security guards, was in the inside pouch and getting it out without disturbing Krycek was a challenge.

Krycek shifted again as Mulder pulled him closer to the edge of the bed, but Krycek didn't fight him. He pressed a single, lubed finger inside, and Krycek shuddered. He began to move his lips, but it looked more like a prayer than an actual attempt to communicate. Krycek's entire body had tensed, and Mulder loved the way the muscles worked against themselves as Krycek tried to both drive himself deeper into Mulder and the finger deeper inside him.

He slid a second finger inside, and Krycek started to shake. Krycek's hands moved down his chest, but stopped at his nipples. He twisted one of them, enough that it must have caused actual pain, but it apparently made him smile. Krycek lifted his hips off the bed one more time, and cried out Mulder's name, once. Mulder swallowed the semen as Krycek collapsed against the bed.

He was asleep before Mulder stood up. Mulder stripped him, and even tugging on the new jeans didn't wake him up. The bed was undone, and it was easy to shift Krycek's body underneath it.

Mulder spent an hour and a half working on his paperwork and expense account while Krycek slept, but every time Krycek shifted or turned, Mulder put down what he was doing and watched.

Finally Krycek sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked, and his voice was thick.

"Almost four," Mulder said.

Krycek nodded and leaned back on his elbows. "I'm not wearing anything," he said.

"I thought you would be more comfortable."

Krycek smiled, but it was secretive. He looked up, but his eyes were shaded in the half-light of the room. "Was I?" he asked.

"It looked like it," Mulder said as he moved to the bed. Krycek stopped him with his foot on Mulder's thigh. "Yes?"

"I think you're wearing too much clothes to join me," he said.

"Is there anything I can do to fix that?"

Krycek lay back, propping his head on the pillow. His foot moved up Mulder's thigh, and then smiled. "One or two," he said.

Mulder stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It wasn't graceful, but without his suit, Mulder had no disillusions about his body's beauty. Krycek lifted the blankets, but Mulder ignored the offered place beside him and moved over him. Krycek groaned as the weight settled over him.

Krycek stared at him for a heartbeat. Mulder frowned, but then realized they had never kissed before. Not on the mouth. Krycek moved before he did, and their tongues met hesitantly. Krycek moved his thigh between Mulder's leg, and Mulder's cock jumped.

The room was so silent, Mulder could hear the ticking of his watch, but then Krycek parted his legs and Mulder settled more comfortably over him. Krycek reached down, taking both of them, and Krycek's warm hand felt so good against Mulder's cock. Krycek had closed his eyes like he only wanted to enjoy the sensation, and his face was calm. The slight smile was for himself, only. It was beautiful to see Krycek finally look like the young man he was. It was too easy to see the shit Krycek had been through rather than Krycek himself.

"Mulder, please," Krycek finally managed. Mulder looked down and wondered how long he had been frozen. He took the tube of KY off the bedside table, but Krycek was still slick from Mulder's fingers. He worked the KY over his cock, and forced himself to recite baseball statistics from last week's game to keep himself from coming.

Krycek nibbled on his lips, down his chin, and over his throat. Technically it wasn't a kiss, but the intimacy almost scared him. He moved so that he knelt between Krycek's spread thighs, and Krycek let his cock slide through his fingers with only a mild protesting sound. Krycek's hand lay useless against his thigh for a heartbeat, and then he began to play with the slight curls on his lower belly.

Mulder took a moment to run his fingers over the various scars and marks on Krycek's chest. One day he wasn't going to let Krycek leave until each one had been explained, but right now he had far more important things to do. He lifted up Krycek's legs, moving him into a better position, and Krycek didn't fight him. His eyes were closed as Mulder manipulated him, but his hand didn't stop moving on his cock. Mulder loved the way Krycek allowed everything to happen, yet still was an active and willing participant. He had no illusions of the extra curricular things cancerman made Krycek do, but he doubted the causal pick-ups and the marks ever saw the expression Krycek had on in that exact moment.

Krycek didn't tense as he Mulder shifted him slightly further to enter him, but he opened his eyes and the sudden difference in his body as Krycek suddenly moved under him went directly to his cock. Mulder hesitated, making sure Krycek wasn't trying to get away, but when he understood that it was just to struggle for the sake of struggling, the sex changed. Krycek caught him with his legs, and the pressure around his waist was almost enough to hurt. He retaliated by angling his hips to catch the prostate, and Krycek laughed. He reared up, displaying amazing abdominal strength, and Mulder backed away.

Krycek's eyes flashed, and Mulder pushed him back. Krycek twisted around so that he landed on his side, and a moment later he was on his hands and knees. Mulder loved the way Krycek's lithe body moved, and he was only a moment later. Krycek offered himself again, and Mulder was back inside, but this time it was easier for Krycek to meet his thrusts.

He tried to fight it, but eventually not even the baseball stats had any power over him. His fingers over Krycek's narrow hips dug in despite himself, and Krycek jerked under him. Mulder couldn't help it. He came, letting the warmth and the Krycek's heat pulled him. Krycek started to shudder half way though, and Mulder collapsed over him. Krycek half turned, adjusting himself so that he could throw a leg over Mulder's thighs and tucked his head into Mulder's shoulder. Mulder stroked the short hair, but Krycek was too far gone to feel it. He sighed, looking over at his paperwork, but reached over Krycek's body and turned off the light.

Krycek was asleep for another three hours. Mulder had almost fallen asleep when he felt Krycek jolt awake. "What time is it?" he demanded.

"A little past eight."

Krycek paled. He grabbed the alarm clock to see for himself, and then stood up. "Shit."

"What?"

"I've got to be on a plane in an hour."

"Catch the next one."

"I can't. Mulder, shit," Krycek stalked around the room, trying to find his T-shirt.

"Krycek--" Mulder started.

Krycek turned on him. "What?" he snarled.

"I thought you might spend the night," Mulder said, softly.

"I can't," Krycek said. He found his T-shirt and pulled it on.

"Why not?"

"Because he's going to be on the plane and he expects me beside him," Krycek said, bitterly.

"So the master calls and you scramble after him," Mulder said.

Krycek stopped yanking his T-shirt down. He narrowed his eyes; Mulder knew he didn't carry a gun, but he still stepped back. "Did you think any of this would change that basic fact?"

"I thought--" Mulder began again.

"You thought what, Mulder?" Krycek demanded.

"I thought I showed you that you didn't have to."

Krycek stayed angry for another heartbeat, and then hesitated. "Did you think ham, eggs and great sex would change what I was?" he asked, but his voice had changed. Mulder heard the pain in it, and he took a step forward. Krycek stumbled back away from him.

"Krycek, don't. Stay."

Krycek's face softened again, but it only let pain show through. "Mulder, please. Don't do this to me."

"Don't what?" Mulder asked. He kept his voice low and soothing, but it only seemed to make Krycek look like he wanted to bolt.

Krycek took a deep breath. "Stop me from walking out of that door."

"Why not?"

"Because if I don't, I'm a dead man. You can't protect me. This is what I am."

"But you don't have to be!"

"Let me go, Mulder," Krycek said. There was a plea in his voice, and the weakness it showed was obvious. Mulder had controlled the day, from the moment in the barge to the sex, and Krycek was having problems shaking off the concern. Mulder suddenly realized that if he forced it, if he made Krycek stay, Krycek would, regardless of the consequences. Mulder sat down on the bed, silently. Krycek put on his shoes, obviously waiting for Mulder to say something, but Mulder kept quiet. Krycek backed away, groping for the door without turning around, and opened the door. He looked at Mulder one more time, begging again, but this time almost like he wanted Mulder to call him back. Mulder looked away, and the door closed.

He felt numb inside, like giving Krycek what he wanted somehow had failed him. He glanced back to the bed, smelling the sex off the sheets, and started to pack his bags. He'd take the train back to Washington instead of flying; he didn't want the slightest chance of seeing the smoking bastard with Krycek at the airport.

#

Krycek silently handed the cabby money for the toll bridge. He could smell Mulder on him and in him, and every time he moved the smell followed. Krycek sighed. He had left his jacket with his things in the smoker's hotel, and he could only hope that the man had another punishment in mind besides being petty and throwing out his things.

The cab pulled in front of the right departure lounge, and Krycek let himself out. The smoker waited for him inside, and Krycek accepted the backhand without question. His bag waited at the smoker's feet, and Krycek took it gratefully. Nothing else was said.

[End](xfiles.htm)


End file.
